


The New Kid

by Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe- No Powers, Friendship, Love, M/M, Parental Abuse, Parksborn, Photographer!Peter, Pre-Spiderman, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, blood tw, cutting tw, goth!harry, jock!Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag/pseuds/Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag
Summary: High School AU- Peter and Harry don't meet until High schoolPeter is popular and sporty though his real passion is photograpghyHarry is new and instantly labeled the school freak. He's an incredible artist with a rough homelife who's found Peter as his only escape. Mostly Harry’s POV for the first several chapters with lots of flirting and an eventual relationship**Revised and reworded as of 5/24/18**





	1. AP Calc

**Author's Note:**

> This one is- personal. In a lot of way. I wrote it as my own type of therapy since I haven't been to another after mine told me I was lying about my mom abusing me. Parts will get dark, and I'm sorry for that. I'll make sure to tag accordingly. This will end happily for both Peter and Harry so I hope you stay around until the end. 
> 
> Comments and constructive critisim are always welcome. 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy.

Peter was sitting in Mr. Greg's AP calculus class when he first appeared. He remembered it exactly because it had started off a dreary and obnoxiously boring Wednesday morning. Mr. Greg was droning on about something so painfully simple Peter had nearly fallen asleep on his notebook. Just as his eyes started to droop and his head began to slump forward, a loud banging knocked him right out of his haze. Mr. Greg stopped mid-sentence and glared at the person responsible for the ruckus; some lanky, goth looking kid with more metal in his face than should be humanly possible, and was that _eyeliner_?

“I'm assuming you are Mr. Osborn?" Mr. Greg said, in that dull monotone voice that never got any better with time.

'Mr. Osborn' just nodded once, adjusting the strap of his bag that lay taught across his skinny chest, head tilted high with an air of superiority that irritated Peter to no end.

"Well, find a seat. And I suggest you take notes. You've already missed half a semester."

The goth kid sent a glare the teachers way before crossing the room to the only availble seat in the class. The way with which he moved held a surprising amount of grace, one that even Peter didn’t have on the basketball court.

Peter watched as the kid didn't bother taking out a notebook, or anything to keep notes on. Instead, he just put his bag on the desk and rest his head on it, looking intent on taking a nap.

"Fucking freak," Peter scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval before returning his attention to the lesson. 

***

The next time Peter saw him was in the locker room. Turned out, they had the same gym class too. It shouldn't of surprised him that even the kids gym clothes were black.

There was a substitute that day, and 'Mr. Osborn,' who Peter soon learned went by Harry, seemed to schmooze the substitute out of making him do any physical activity that day.

Peter watched as the kid took a seat on the top risers, hunched over his MP3 player the entire 90 minutes of gym class.

"What a freak," Peter said to no one in particular before returning to his stretches. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally invisioned Andrew Garfield and Dane Dehaan when I wrote this but honestly all versions of Parksborn are beautiful and make me happy so you do you!


	2. Eugene

It had been a mostly quiet week for Peter, classes were going fine, the basketball season was coming to an end and Peter was finding himself with more free time than he knew what to do with. May had suggested he pick up a part time job, and with the way he liked to spend money, it wasn't a terrible idea.

Peter was torn from his thoughts by the sound of people chanting Flash’s name outside. And from experience, Peter knew it couldn't be good. After maneuvering through several people in the cafeteria, he made it outside where a substantial crowd had gathered.

He could see Flash's back, and the mass of his friends around him, cheering the large jock on. Peter pushed his way through the maze of students and finally saw the cause for commotion.

Flash had Harry held upside down, laughing and dunking his head in a small puddle that had formed on the ground. It wasn't enough for him to drown in, but the entirety of his face and hair was soaked and he had black makeup running across his face.

"Guess you should of bought waterproof huh fag?" Flash laughed, dunking Harry in the water again before he spotted his best friend. "Hey Parker! Get in on this!"

The crowd seemed to like that idea and spurred Flash's assault on, but Peter wasn't having any of it. He didn’t like the kid, but no one, not even Harry deserved to be on the end of Flash’s wrath.

"Come on Flash, put him down." Peter said calmly, not wanting to anger the larger man and exacerbate the situation.

"What? Put him down? No way!" Flash laughed, blowing off his friend. "Hey! Get your camera out! Bet this would make a great addition to Stacy's yearbook page." 

Now Peter was mad, not only had he ignored the orders of his _captain_ , he ignored the request of his friend. “I told you to put him down Flash!"

But the larger jock continued to ignore him. Too intent on bringing down a reign of humiliation on the new kid. Peter's temper flared to a near boiling point. 

"PUT HIM DOWN! EUGENE!" Peter snapped, and Flash's nostrils flared in anger. The crowd let out a sea of "ooooh's" at the newly developed tension between the two and forgot all about Harry, who Flash ungracefully dropped back into the water in favor of Peter.

"What the fuck did call me Parker?"

Peter steeled himself for the punch that was coming, but a teacher pushed their way inbetween them before Peter could get hit. He mentally thanked whoever or whatever was looking out for him. Best friends or not, that would of warranted a punch in Flash's book. 

With the presence of a Mr. Erikson, and threat of detentions, the crowd dissipated, and soon it was only Peter and Harry left in the courtyard.

Peters attention flickered to Harry who was coughing and wringing his hair out, drying his ruddy face on his sleeve. It didn't take a genius to figure out Harry was crying. And Peter didn’t blame him. He took pity on the new kid and held his hand out for Harry, offering help up. But Harry swatted the hand away like a person would strike a fly, shooting him a glare as if _he_ was the one that had been responsible for the assault on Harry.

"Fine. Whatever man," Peter scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading back to lunch. “You’re fucking welcome by the way.”

He shook his head and didn’t grace Harry with a look back. If that's what he gets for trying to help...


	3. Multimedia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the first two were a little short. It seemed too much like a natural break to force together into one chapter.

The next time he saw Harry was in Multimedia, honest to God Peter's favorite class. It was an art class, but it didn't focus on just one medium. In Peters opinion, it was a good way to expose high school students to different forms of art before college.

The first week they did computer animation, which Peter was horrible at, then sculpture, photography (Peter's favorite) and this week focused on painting. Harry was already in the classroom by the time Peter got there. And of course, he managed to take the seat right next to Peter's.

Harry didn't acknowledge Peter when he finally sat down with his supplies, he was probably too preoccupied by his painting to communicate. But after their first few awkward meetings, Peter was kinda glad.

Peter stared at the blank canvas for almost 10 minutes before his eyes began to wander. He wasn't really all that good at painting, and painting a fruit basket seemed so cliche. Though he wouldn’t dare attempt to freeform. Maybe he’d just take the D on the assignment and hope the next project was more attuned to his skill set. 

Eventually his eyes landed on Harry. How or why he wasn't sure, but they did, and it was the first time he actually got a good look at the kid since he started three weeks ago.

Harry's hair was dark, but not naturally so. His light eyebrows suggested he was probably a brunette or blonde naturally. _Ok, so he died his hair. Kinda weird for a guy but wasn’t everything about him?_

But while his hair was inky and void of all color, his eyes were anything but. They were a sharp, icy blue, further enhanced by the black make-up caked on underneath. Peter had never seen a guy wear make-up before, but on Harry it actually looked pretty good. 

Harry had full pink lips, with a single ring of black metal looped through on the left side. He had similar looking rings through his earlobes and dangling under his nose. _Jesus didn’t all those hurt?_

Around his neck was a simple silver chain, with some kind of pendant Peter didn't recognize. _Probably some freaky cult thing_ , Peter assumed. It would fit the kids style.

Moving down from his face, Peter noticed his clothes were as black as his hair, and his pants were so tight around his legs they almost looked painted on.

Peter also noticed Harry wore a lot of jewelry for a guy. In addition to the necklace, he had a few thick rings on each hand and a single set of two different colored plastic bracelets, one hot pink and one black, interlaced together.  _Huh, a splash of color. Interesting._

To finish the long winded once over, on his feet Peter spotted two dirty, black Converse, each with a different design drawn across the usually white toes. All together Harry was an interesting sight, and Peter couldn't help wondering how long it took him to get dressed in the morning...

"You should take a picture. It'll last longer," Harry spoke suddenly, eyes never moving from his painting. It took Peter a second before he realized he was talking to him.

"Huh?" Peter asked unintelligently.

The smallest hint of a smile appeared on Harry's face and Peter found himself drawn to it.

"You're staring, I can feel it on my neck," He answered simply, dipping his brush in red paint. "If you want to preserve my image to beat off to later, you should really take a picture."

Though Harry had said it quiet enough no one else would hear it, it was so crude and unexpected it made Peter sputter, unable to form a cognitive response.

The smile grew this time, almost reaching his eyes which stared at Peter so deeply it almost felt like he was staring through him.

"Parker, relax. It was just a joke," He said, though Peter wasn't entirely convinced. 

"H-How did you know my name?" Peter asked, finally able to speak without stumbling over his words.

Harry gave him a weird look, but then softened when he realized Peter was serious.

"It's on your jacket," Harry hinted softly, returning his attention to his painting.

"O-Oh," Peter blushed hard. Harry must think he's an idiot.

"I don't think you're an idiot," Harry said, and Peter's head snapped up, his eyes going wide in disbelief. _Did he just-_

"I'm not psychic either," Harry chuckled, keeping his eyes on his work. "Your body language was suggesting it. I bet you suck at poker.”

Well now Peter was _really_ confused. He was about to clarify just what in the hell was going on, but Harry was speaking again. Peter realized this was probably the most he'd heard him speak in the three weeks he'd been there.

"Have you ever seen that show Criminal Minds? The one with the behavioral profilers?"

"I've heard of it. I haven't watched it though."

"Well, that's what they do. They read body language, facial cues, micro expressions of serial killers. They specialize in analyzing someone's mind, knowing what they are thinking without having to ask. It's what I want to do one day, so I've been practicing for a couple of years. I think I've gotten decently good."

"Yeah, I'll say," Peter mumbled, and that made Harry genuinely laugh. Peter realized how nice it sounded when Harry laughed, so light and full of happiness. A striking difference from what his outward appearance showed. He made a mental note to do whatever he could to hear it again.

"There. Done," Harry smiled, setting down his paintbrush, "What do you think?"

Peter looked over the painting in awe.

"Well, it's definitely not a fruit basket..."

It was dark, and frankly fairly creepy, but it was also strikingly beautiful. The background was of the night sky, the moon taking up a significant corner of the canvas. Through the middle was a long and winding tree, it's branches curled forward enough that the tree itself looked like half of a heart. Draping from one of the branches was a simple swing, comprised of rope and a rectangle of word. On it was the silhouette of a girl, young, probably no more than 10. Finally, in the top corner was a red balloon, floating up towards the heavens, or perhaps the moon. It was the only splash of color in the whole piece and it complimented the black and blues very well in Peter's opinion. He made sure to tell Harry that. 

Harry's eyes seemed to brighten at the compliment, and it made Peter's chest tighten for some reason.

"Thank you Peter.” 

The thanks he whispered out was so genuine and pure, like no one had ever positively complimented his work before. It was almost sad really, and Peter started to wonder if anyone ever had.

Peter looked forlornly at his own blank canvas, maybe he could convince Mrs. O to let him do a different assignment instead. He’d take the D, but it would really hurt his chances on getting a scholarship for college next year.

The shrill ringing of the period bell startled both of them out of their seats.

Harry's good mood seemed to falter as he began to pack up his stuff. Peter noticed the man's demeanor change and frowned. It was the end of the day, shouldn't he be excited to leave? Maybe he just really liked art.

"Hey, are you walking home or do you have a ride," He asked, anxious to spend a little more time with the guy. 

"I always walk," Harry shrugged, pulling his bag over his head and putting one headphone in.

"Well, practice is canceled, so I was going to walk today. Wanna walk together?" He offered awkwardly. Harry didn't seem to notice though, he just shrugged and nodded, dropping off his painting to Mrs. O on the way out the door.

 


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this will switch to Harry's POV, emotional and physical parental abuse in this chapter.  
> Self harm TW  
> Blood TW

The first few blocks of the trip home were quiet, and it was honestly driving Peter crazy. He never was one for small talk, but the silence somehow seemed worse in those moments. 

"So... Which street did you move onto? I know it's Queens, but the suburbs by the school are pretty close knit. Everyone knows everybody."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just _you_ everyone knew," Harry teased, clenching the strap of his bag out of reflex.

Peter flushed in embarrassed, he knew he was popular, it came with being Captain, but it wasn’t something he bragged about. Harry seemed to pick up on his uneasiness of the subject and  quickly changed it. 

"I'm on Celtic lane," He said, and that thankfully seemed to break Peter out of his funk. Peter was the only person who had been kind to him since he started. He didn't need any more enemies.

"Oh! Alright. That's pretty close to me actually. I'm only a block up. Spring Hill Drive."

"How long have you lived there?" Harry asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

"Pretty much my whole life. I moved in with my aunt and uncle after my parents split. Seemed a better fit, they were both working too much to take care of me.  May's a sweetheart, you'd love her. Ben can be a hardass, but I'm sure it's not easy living with me." 

"I'm sure it's not," Harry teased lightly, gaining a playful shove to the shoulder from Peter. 

“Where did you say you moved here from again?” Peter asked, probably in an attempt to fill the silence. Harry didn’t mind, it was nice to have someone to talk to. 

“I didn’t,” Harry smiled when Peter looked panicked again. He really did like getting a rise out of him. “Texas.”

” _Texas_?” Peter gaped, “What the hell is there to do in Texas?” 

“Not a damn thing,” Harry giggled, laughing for the first time in what felt like ages. “My moms family lives there, but my dad just got a job transfer up here. Gotta go where the money is right?” 

“Don’t you miss your friends?” Peter asked, and Harry’s frown returned. 

“I don’t have any friends.” 

Peters smile faded too, embarrassment and guilt of saying the wrong thing again holding his tongue. They walked the rest of the way in an uncomfortable silence, until Peter stopped in front of a small brown house.

"This is me," He explained, awkwardly playing with the straps of his backpack.

Harry looked over the small house appreciatively before giving Peter a kind smile, even if it was slightly forced.

"Thanks for walking with me. Have a good night Peter," Harry said, giving him a small wave as the taller man disappeared into the house.

When Peter was safely inside his home, Harry’s frown returned with a vengeance, an ugly sneer on his otherwise pretty face. Maybe he’d get lucky and get hit by a car in the single block walk to his house.

***

Harry looked up at his own house with dismay. It was 6 minutes later than he usually was home, the slower pace he walked with Peter causing the delay, and he just knew he was going to catch hell for it. He sighed heavily before pushing his key in the lock and turning. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could make it into his room before anyone noticed him.

"Harry? Is that you?"

He froze when he heard his mothers angry and disapproving voice. _Fuck. Here we go again._

"Yeah mom?"

"There you are! What the fuck took so long!" She shouted from the kitchen, probably preparing some deep fried grease puddle she called dinner.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, knowing whatever he said would fall on deaf ears. He attempted anyway, maybe tonight she’d buy it.

"Mom I told you, I have art last. It takes some time to clean up all the supplies."

"Yeah, right,” she said coldly, appearing from behind the separating wall and shooting him a look of disapproval. “You expect me to believe you? All you ever do is lie to me Harry! Lie and try to piss me off! I bet you were doing drugs again. We’ve been here 3 weeks and you’re already fucking up. Goddamn it Harry! Do we need to move _again_? Can't you just _control_ yourself?"

Harry's eyes began to well with tears, but he fought them back. Can’t he go one day without getting screamed at?

"I wasn't doing drugs mom. I already told you-"

" _Bullshit_ ," She shouted, emerging from the kitchen and crossing the room at a fast, threatening pace. “Let me see your bag."

"No." Harry gripped his bag tight and moved backwards. There was nothing in it but school supplies, but it was _his_ personal stuff. It would be nice to have some shred of privacy, or at least an illusion of one in this fucking house. They already looked through his phone whenever they felt like it, barged into his room without ever knocking. He had made the mistake of wanting to close the door to get dressed in the morning when they first moved here. They solved that problem by taking the damn door off the hinges. 

"I fucking knew it. Knew you were fucking lying to me again.”

She yanked the bag off Harry's torso and shoved him back hard, digging through all the pockets before finally dumping it upside down until everything fell out.

Harry watched his drawing notebook clatter to the floor, the front two pages folding on themselves and his pencilcase splitting open once it hit the hardwood floor. His MP3 player hit the ground next, the screen cracking under the pressure from the drop. The tears were free flowing now.

"Mom. Stop, please you're breaking my stuff. I told you I wasn't-"

"Yeah. And after all the shit you put me through last year you expect me to believe you? You probably took it already huh?"

She tossed the now empty bag aside and stormed up to him, gripping his chin hard and pushing his hair out of the way to look at his eyes to check for pupil dilation. When she found none she yanked her hand back, not caring at the way it hurt Harry’s jaw.

"I hate this black shit you wear. You're not a fucking girl you know," She scolded, referring to the heavy makeup under Harry's eyes. "You got away with it this time. But don't think I won't catch you. And when I do, I'm sending you to the hospital. I'm not letting you embarass me in front of everyone, not again. I will not be the mother of some fag with a drug problem. Now go to your room.” 

He grabbed everything he could carry and ran up to his room, slamming the door and barricading himself against it. He wasn't allowed a lock for 'obvious reasons' so the only way he could keep his parents from barging in was to pin himself between his bed and the door. 

Finally alone and somewhat safe, as safe as he could be, Harry let the tears stain his face. His hands were trembling from a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness and he knew what would make it all go away. But he had been _so good_ , nearly a month clean. He didn't want to succumb to those urges again. He was proud of himself for once. But the anxiety that filled his chest made it so tight he struggled to breathe. He knew it was all psychosomatic, but he couldn't convince his body of it. He needed release, it was the only way he could breathe right again. 

He stood for only a moment to grab a stuffed animal off his bookshelf and slumped back against the door. He yanked open the Velcro on the back of the stuffed hippo and dug through the stuffing until he found what he needed to make the pain stop.

Just holding the cold metal in his hand eased some of the tension, but he knew it wouldn't get rid of it completely. Not this time. With a shakey breath, he undid the button of his pants, pulling them down low enough to expose his hips. He held the blade in his fingers and pressed it against his hip bone before drawing it back towards his spine. The skin split with some difficulty, the blade nearly dull by now, but soon small beads of blood were dripping down pale skin and seeping into dark fabric.

He repeated the action a few more times on fresh skin. The cuts weren't enough to kill him from blood loss, or deep enough to need stitches, or in a place anyone who say his intentions were merely for attention. They were strategically in a spot no one would ever see, but in a place he'd feel them with every movement. He didn't cut for attention or death, he cut because it was the only thing in his life he had some control over. And that was something he so desperately needed.

***

Dinner was _eventful_. His father had come home, pissed at work and had yelled at his mom for making shitty food again. Harry would be lying if that didn't make him smile just a little bit. After the ass chewing he got earlier for doing literally  _nothing_ , his mom deserved it for being such a bitch.

When dinner ended and he was allowed to be excused, he went right back up to his room. He didn’t even bother to change out of his jeans before crawling into bed to try to get some sleep before starting the vicious, toxic cycle all over again tomorrow.


	5. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Switches back and forth between Harry and Peter's POV, POV changes broken up by line breaks

Going to bed without showering was a bad idea. First and foremost, because bleeding hips plus pants plus sleep equals dried blood and scabs that tear open the morning upon removal of said pants. Harry managed to limp his way into the shower before he made too much of a mess and let the warm water clean the regrets of yesterday away.

The moment he was dressed, Harry fled the house, even if school didn’t start for at least another hour. His dad had already left for work, and he wasn't sure where his mom was, but he was glad he didn't run into her this morning. He was sure it would of ended with a black eye and he had run out of foundation yesterday.

He dressed similarly to yesterday, dark black jeans, a band tee, HIM today, and his trademark black eyeliner surrounding his eyes. The only difference today was his body jewelry. There were long silver spikes through his ears today, gauged 12, and a single black stud through his lip. It was colder today, and Harry mentally cursed himself for not bringing a jacket. His lips were blue by the time he made it to first period.

* * *

Peter bounced his foot anxiously as the warning bell rang. He hadn't seen Harry yet, and he was worried the he was going to be late. This teacher already didn't like him, and Mr. Greg was notorious for giving out detention.

Eventually, Harry did show up, just as the final bell rang. Peter's chest clenched when he took in the younger man, drenched and shivering. Didn't he have a jacket?

Harry pulled out his seat and flopped into it, not even acknowledging Peter. Peter wanted to be put off by it, but then he realized Mr. Greg was talking, and it was probably better for both of their sakes that Harry ignored him.

AP Calc passed in a blur. Peter couldn't care less about equations, not when so many questions were running through his mind. There was something off about Harry's body language, he could sense it. And after their talk yesterday about profiling, Peter spent the rest of the night on Google trying to learn everything he could just for a chance to talk to Harry again.

The end of class bell rang and most of the students fled within seconds, leaving Harry and Peter alone in the classroom. Peter packed up his stuff and tossed his bag over his shoulder, hurrying to the hallway to wait for Harry.

* * *

Harry emerged a minute later, his eyes scanning back and forth in a way that displayed he was lost in thought.

"Hey," Peter said quietly, finally catching the mans attention.

Harry's hands flew up and he nearly fell on his ass, Peter's presence scaring the shit out of him.

"Dude! Don't do that!" He scolded, catching himself and standing more soundly.

"S-Sorry," Peter blushed, fixing the strap of his bag subconsciously, "I uh, don't you have a coat?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, I have a coat. I just forgot it today is all," Harry lied, eyes scanning over Peter's letterman jacket, wondering if it was as warm as it looked.

"Well, you can borrow mine," Peter offered, and for a second Harry almost accepted it.

"I don't think your friends would be too happy to see a freak like me wearing your jacket," Harry said, and Peter frowned. Harry interpreted it as Peter agreeing. 

"Well- ok. Just make sure you bring it tomorrow ok? It's supposed to snow."

Harry gave Peter a small smile, nodding his head in thanks. He was too lost in his own head to do much more honestly. "I appreciate the heads up."

"Alright, well you're welcome," Peter smiled in response, despite his obvious awkwardness. "See you in Multimedia?"

Harry gave him one last nod before the warning bell rang threateningly overhead, cutting their nice conversation short.

* * *

Peter didn't see Harry again until Multimedia. Their school had a weird set up where Mondays and Wednesdays consisted of extra long 1st, 3rd, 5th, and 7th period classes, called ‘odd days.’ The ritual repeated Tuesdays and Thursdays with 2nd, 4th, and 6th period, known as 'even' days. Friday's classes were shorter, but consisted of all 7, named, as you could guess, 'all' days. With the way their schedules lined up, ‘All days’ Peter got to see Harry the most, and even days the least. He was really starting to hate even days...

Peter grabbed his sketchbook and found the open spot next to Harry, who was already set up and painting like a damn over achiever. Harry ignored him, and that made Peter frown.

"Um, hello?" He asked hesitantly, and that seemed to snap Harry out of whatever was going on in his head. He blinked a few times before focusing on Peter and giving him a small smile.

"Hey Peter, what's up?"

"You looked a little lost there. Everything ok?"

Harry shrugged, and Peter frowned again.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not here," Harry said, continuing on his second painting, "Maybe on the walk home?"

Peter smiled widely. Harry wanted to walk home with him again!

"It's a date."


	6. The dream that revealed too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like I should probably add something in here about time frame. Think, early 2000s. Like 2006-2009. This is more the time period this is taking place. 
> 
> I realized while editing I was talking about flip phones and Fall Out Boy and immediately felt grey hairs forming. 
> 
> Enjoy.

When the final bell rang, Harry tried incredibly hard to wrap up his things quick enough to escape before Peter noticed, but the man was already in front of him, holding the door open with a goofy smile. He had wanted to tell Peter everything at the beginning of class, but now that it was time to do it, he was scrambling to find a lie. Harry sighed and pulled his bag over his head, hoping the walk home wouldn't be too awkward.

It had started to rain, and Harry mentally cursed himself for not bringing at least a hoodie, but he didn’t dare go back in the house after graciously dodging Rachel this morning. It was only 8 blocks, he could tough through it.

The weather outside was gearing up for the snow storm tomorrow Peter promised and the rain had turned to sleet. His teeth chattered loudly in his skull and he could swear he felt his lips turning blue.

"Damn it, hang on," He heard off to his side before something warm was wrapped around his shoulders. He flinched instinctively at the light touches but controlled himself well enough peter didn’t notice. Harry blinked a few times before realizing it was Peter's lettermen jacket around his shoulders.

"I figured we're far enough from the school now that no one will see you in it." Peter gave him a warm smile before resting his arm around Harry's shoulders, it made Harry blush pink. "Plus, you look like you need it more than I do. I usually run warm anyway."

Harry's chattering teeth managed out a quiet thanks, and although the intimate touch made him uncomfortable, he was too cold to fight it right now.

"Sooo," Peter said awkwardly, pushing his hands in his pocket. It was too quiet again. "Did you still want to talk?"

Harry shrugged. He really wanted to blurt out no, but that seemed rude.

"It's just been a long week is all," he tried, hoping that answer would suffice.

"It's Tuesday Har..."

"You're telling me," Harry smiled a little at the nickname, he'd never gotten one that didn't have 'freak' tacked at the end.

Peter must have taken the hint because he dropped it. Harry would probably tell him eventually. But not today, not when the emotional and physical damage was still so raw.

The sleeted rain had stopped but it was still cold as fuck out. They walked the remaining few blocks in silence, Peter being the one who broke it again.

"Hey, you got a cell phone?"

"Uh, yeah why?"

"Let me see it for a sec."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow but pulled out his phone none the less. It was a simple flip phone, covered top to bottom in bright pink duck tape.

"It uh... Kept falling apart," Harry explained with a blush but Peter just smiled.

"Nah, it's cool. I like it," He said before tying something and hitting the green call button. Harry heard Peter's phone start to ring and wondered what he was doing.

"There. Now I have your number and you have mine. Text me if you want to talk or anything. I'm usually up pretty late."

Harrys smile reached his eyes at the gesture. No one had ever wanted to be his friend let alone offer up their phone number before.

"Hey, that's a good look on you. You should wear it more often."

Peter offered the compliment so casually it made Harry's chin drop shyly and the blush spread all the way down to his toes. He wished he could disappear behind his hair. 

"I-I'll keep that in mind," He stuttered, giving the taller man a shy wave as he jogged up his driveway.

”Peter wait! Your jacket!” Harry almost didn’t want to give it back, but he knew if he went home with a random guys jacket the AIDS and hellfire talk would start up again and that just wasn’t something Harry was mentally ready for.

Peter jogged back to him and took the jacket, almost regretfully, and tucked it under his arm. A sharp breeze racked Harry’s small frame and sent a shiver all the way through to his bones. Peter was immediately reaching for his jacket but Harry held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, I’ll be ok I promise. It’s only a block.” 

Peter’s frown looked unconvinced, but he also knew better than to argue with Harry. He looked at Harry for a long moment, as if debating something in his head before wrapping his arms around the smaller man in a tight hug. It took Harry by suprise, and honestly scared him a little, but he was so damn warm he couldn’t find it in him to care. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Har.” Peter whispered, hugging him tighter before jogging back up his driveway.

When he was far enough away, Harry let his full smile return. He was pink all the way up to his ears, but he didn’t care. He looked back down at the phone number on his screen and smiled as he typed in Peter’s name, along with a text heart.

* * *

Peter sighed as he crawled into bed that night, his thoughts everywhere at once. He was really starting to like Harry. In a way that made him a little nervous. He had never felt this way for another guy before, but he certainly wasn't opposed to it. Sure, he’d found other guys attractive, probably one of his favorite parts about being on the basketball team, but this felt _different_. This felt like freshman year with Gwen Stacy. This felt like roses, and dinner, and movie dates where your hands accidentally brush as you both reach for the popcorn bucket. This was more than friendship and definitely more than just his libedo talking. And his subconscious was more than happy to drive that point home that night.

Peter woke up panting and _hard_ , his body aching for more than his hand could possibly give him. The image of Harry's gorgeous and pale face, contorting in pleasure as he was fucked into was burned into the insides of his eyelids. Every time he blinked, there was Harry, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

And even though Peter was awake, he could still hear Harry's moans of pleasure, begging Peter to take him deeper, make him come. Peter imagined biting on Harry's lip ring while they kissed, wondering if the metal would be a cool contrast to Harry’s warm lips. 

The more he focused on the details of his dream, the more he was faced with the overwhelming _need_ to make it a reality.

***

The dream stuck with him most of the week, making classes more awkward than they should be. By Friday, he couldn't take it anymore. He _needed_ to talk to Harry. If only to know if the other man was gay.

He flipped open his phone and located the ten digit number. He typed and deleted at least 12 different intro messages before finally deciding on a safe and simple _Hey_.

He chewed on his fingernail in anticipation, hoping Harry texted back quickly. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack.

His phone buzzed less than a minute later and **Harry** flashed across his screen. Peter's hands shook as he opened the text message.

_**Hey you :)** _

Peter let out a relieved laugh, running his hand through his sweaty hair. He couldn't believe how worked up he got over two words! It was kinda ridiculous when he thought about it, but he didn't care. He was in the privacy of his own home. No one was here to judge him.

_**Hey, haha. What are you up to?** _

The reply was immediate this time.

_**Listening to music. Working on our multimedia final, ugh.** _

Peter groaned and covered his face. 

_**Shit. I totally forgot about that. I don't even know what I'm going to do. What are you doing for it?**_

The conversation was easy, safe. But Peter didn’t know if that relieved him or just set him more on edge.

_**Just another painting. I could help you with yours if you'd like.** _

"If I'd like. You're damn right yeah I'd like," Peter muttered out loud, laughing more at himself than Harry's generous offer.

_**Could I see yours? Maybe it'll give me inspiration?** _

Harry's next message took a few minutes to come through, and Peter panicked that he had pissed the man off. Until the picture message came through half a second later.

"Peter you fucking tool," He berated himself, opening the photo message and analyzing it on his small screen.

It looked like the front profile of a woman, just her neck and barely some of her chest taking up majority of the canvas. Around her throat was a heart locket, a thick chain holding it in the dead center of her chest. Surrounding the picture were words, painted in perfect, elegant script.

_Wear me like a locket around your throat. I'll weigh you down, I'll watch you choke._

To Peter's surprise, he liked it, a lot. It was kinda dark and morbid, but it was also beautiful and poetic. Peter wouldn't have been able to pull something like that off.

_**That looks great dude. Did you make that up by yourself?** _

_**Ha, I wish. I can't write to save my life. It's lyrics from this album I'm listening to.** _

_**What are you listening to?** _

_**Nothing you'd be interested in ;D** _

Peter laughed at the light teasing. Harry probably wasn't wrong, the kid was probably into heavy goth metal or some shit. But he was curious nonetheless.

_**Try me.** _

Peter heard rustling downstairs and knew that May was home. He probably should go down and say hi, but he really wanted to talk to Harry. He’d say hi in a minute.

_**The album is From Under the Cork Tree. It's from a Fall Out Boy song called Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner. If you're actually interested, I can burn you a copy.** _

"What the fuck is Fall Out Boy?" Peter asked aloud, making a mental note to look them up later. Just to have something else to talk about with Harry. Other than four classes, they didn't have much in common, but Peter wanted to change that.

_**I could probably give them a try. Thanks Har**._

Peter hit send before he could correct his slip up. He really hoped Harry didn't mind the nickname.

_**You're lucky I like you, you're probably the only person in the world who could call me Har and get away with it...** _

That made Peter's heart flutter, and he let out a stupid giddy giggle because of it. He took time composing his next text message. He wanted to ask Harry out, but make it seem more casual than an actual date. They'd only know each other a month, and he didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Finally, after another 12 drafts, he hit send.

_**Well I'm glad. I wouldn't want to feel your wrath... Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? I was thinking about taking pictures for my final project. I could really use an artists eye. And potentially a model.** _

When Harry didn't text back for a solid 7 minutes, Peter panicked he ruined everything by asking Harry out too soon. But before his chest could tighten anymore and strangle him, another text came through from Harry.

_**Sorry, was talking to my mom. I'm free. Want me to meet you somewhere?** _

Peter let out a shuddering sigh. Jesus fucking Christ that was nerve wracking. He never panicked this much asking out a girl. What was happening to him?

_**If you just want to come over we can walk to the park from here.** _

_**Sure. I'll leave in 15.** _

_**Cool. See you then.** _

Peter snapped his phone closed and smiled. _Harry_ was coming over. Harry was coming over to see _him_.

“SHIT!” He needed to get dressed...


	7. A day of bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd give you guys some cute before it all goes to shit for Harry. 
> 
> PS, black cigarettes are totally a thing. They are called blacks and have cherry flavored paper. (Technically they are cigars now because tabacco laws but whatever)

How Peter managed to shower, get dressed, gel his hair, grab his equipment and be out the door before Harry arrived he'll never know. But when he saw the younger man, boarding up his driveway a huge grin broke out over his face. He didn't even know the kid could skateboard. Harry was just full of surprises, and Peter loved it. 

"Hey Pete," Harry smiled, pulling a hot pink headphone out of his ear before kicking up his board. The nickname had his heart fluttering in his chest and his cheeks pinking lightly. 

"H-Hey Har," Peter smiled, pulling his camera strap over his head so he could give his friend a hug. He was surprised when it was returned. Physical touch seemed to be something Harry shied away from. It felt good to be granted that privilege. He kept it quick though, it case it was only platonic on Harry’s end. “Uh, and thanks again for helping me out. I'm afraid my creativity is pretty tapped out."

"It's the end of the semester, makes sense," Harry shrugged, pulling away from the hug easily and pocketing his MP3 player, "So, park?"

Peter nodded and the two set off in the direction of the park. The short distance was filled with comfortable conversation, though Harry carried most of it. Peter was too preoccupied with starring to really contribute.

Peter noticed Harry’s hair was less fixed today and looked completely devoid of any hairspray and gel. It still fell in his face, covering his right eye, but it looked soft instead of crunchy. He also noticed Harry had substantially more eyeliner on today, the tops lined as well as the bottoms, but it honestly looked fucking hot. It made his already sparking blue eyes really pop.

He was in all black as per usual, except for his ears. The pointy spikes through his ears were- rainbow? Rainbow earrings, extra makeup, and messy, shaggy hair. He was still put together but he looked marginally more relaxed in his current state. Peter had a feeling this was not a look Harry let most people see, and that, that made Peter impossibly happy.

"Pete. You've  _ got _ to be sneaker if you want to check me out without me noticing."

Peters face broke out in a dark red blush and Harry burst out laughing. It was the most light hearted and beautiful sound Peter had ever heard, even if it was at his expense. 

"I'm just kidding man! But seriously it’s fine, it's nice to have someone look at me with something other than disgust."

Peter was hoping Harry was joking, but the suddenly sad look on his face made Peter think twice. Wait, that was it! 

"Hey, would you mind if I took pictures of you for my final?" 

"Me? W-Why?" Harry asked exasperatedly, his own face pinking now.

"Well, you did say to take a picture, it would last longer right?"

“I meant for your spank bank, not to post to the world!” He laughed and Peter’s face fell just a little. 

“Har, please?” He asked seriously and a small smile creeped across Harry's face. 

“Yeah?” Peter’s grin split wide. 

“Yeah fine I guess,” Harry sighed dramatically, shaking his long hair in front of his face before finger coming it to the right as best he could. “How do you want me Pete?"

Peter's voice dried in his throat. He knew what Harry meant, but for some reason that triggered the memories of his dream and Harry’s beautiful face, twisted in pleasure came to the forefront of his mind. 

"For the  _ picture _ Pete," Harry laughed, sensing his uncomfortability and rolling with it. He propped his board against a particularly tall rock before climbing on top of it, crossing his legs as he awaited direction. 

"Uhh, right right yeah," Peter stammered, snapping himself out of his daydream and focusing on the present Harry. He pulled his camera bag off his shoulder and took out the different type of lenses he wanted to use. It was a very modern camera with a large screen for instant playback, but also allowed you some of the mechanics of old film cameras. It was a perfect combination of old and new which Peter loved. Ben had great taste in photography equipment. He saw Harry watching him and felt nervous, like he was moving too slow. Maybe he was, his brain was a mess right now and being this close to Harry was screwing with his head.

“Why don't you just stay there and look my way. I'll move to you."

"I can do that," Harry said easily, beginning to dig around in his hoodie pocket, "You mind if I smoke?"

Peter looked up from his camera to see Harry plucking out a cigarette from a small black box with a large red triangle on the front before pushing it behind his teeth. He used an equally black lighter to light the smoke stick and peter couldn’t help but let out an amused groan..

"Oh my god Har! Even your cigarettes are black!"

Harry smirked and blew out his first drag, licking the ash taste off his lips. "What can I say, I like the color.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Peter rolled his eyes in amusement. Peter wasn't a big fan of smokers, or smoking in general. In fact, he thought it was downright disgusting, but Harry had this way of making everything attractive. It was equally as frustrating as it was hot.

He watched Harry smoke for another minute while he assembled his camera. 

"I wonder if I can get a picture of the smoke. Can you blow smoke rings or anything?"

"I can blow a lot of things," Harry said easily and Peter was glad he was hiding behind his camera or Harry might of caught his jaw dropping. He cleared his throat once before focusing.

"Just be you and I'll take pictures ok? I want to see you in your element."

"I'm not a zoo animal," Harry snorted, moving from his spot on rock into the grass. He rolled onto his back and continued smoking while Peter took pictures. He didn't personally think he was very photogenic, but he'd do pretty much anything if it kept Peter's attention on him.

"Mind if I take a couple in different spots?"

Harry looked up from the grass and propped himself up on his arms. He didn’t see why not. 

"Sure. Just tell me where you want me."

Peter snapped a couple more before pointing to the yellow metal picnic table that was in desperate need of a new paint job. 

"Can I have you over here? On this table?"

Harry smirked and crushed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before moving where Peter directed.

"Can you lay on your stomach? And maybe look at me?"

"Sure Pete. Anything you want." Harry bemused, rolling onto his stomach and kicking up his feet. He locked his ankles together and let his head lay in his palms, looking up at Peter innocently. 

The two laughed and Harry posed, letting Peter take pictures until he was content. They had spent nearly an hour at the park, just enjoying the sun and each others company. Peter was now skimming through their photos while Harry smoked another cigarette.

"Oh my god,” Peter gasped and Harry bolted into an upright position.

“What is it?" he asked nervously, "did I mess something up?"

"No. The opposite. This picture is  _ perfect _ ! Do you want to see?"

"Is that even a question?" Harry laughed, moving over so Peter could sit next to him.

"Look at this." 

Peter showed Harry a picture of himself caught in candid motion, his eyes closed and crinkled in laughter. He was probably laughing at something Peter said but Harry couldn’t remember what exactly now. He was on his elbows on the yellow picnic table, cigarette in between two fingers. The bright yellow complimented the layers of black Harry hid himself in and all around made the photo very aesthetically pleasing. Even if Harry absolutely hated it. 

"Oh my god," Harry groaned, flicking away the butt of his cigarette before hiding his face in his arms. “I look like a fucking loser."

"Whatever man! You look awesome!” Peter said excitedly, only looking at Harry for a moment before focusing back on the picture. “Plus, this is probably the best photo I've ever taken."

"Oh it's a great photo. I just hate your model. He's too..." Harry waved his hand around, looking for the right word, "cutesy."

"Yeah well, I think he's hot."

Peter's mouth snapped shut as he realized what he said out loud. They had never explicitly said how they felt about each other or defined what their relationship was. Peter was terrified of seeing rejection in Harry’s brilliant, beautiful eyes so he kept his own on his camera, fiddling with the buttons to seem busy.

He didn't expect a soft hand to touch his chin, turning his head in Harry's direction. He didn’t exspect Harry to take his distraction from his hands and replace it with one of his own. And he most certainly didn't expect soft, warm lips with just a hint of cool metal to press against his in full public view. His subconscious was mentally cheering.

"W-What did you do that for?" He asked shakily when the two broke away for air. 

"Because I knew you wouldn't," Harry smirked and Peter let out a surprised, airy laugh. 

”Well you don’t have to stop,” Peter said, his voice trembling just a bit too much for his liking. Harry didn’t seem to notice though, and if he did, he didn’t say anything. He just smirked and leaned forward, connecting their lips a little harder this time.

Harry’s lips tasted harsh, like ash and fire, but we’re also sweet, with a hint of cherry. He wondered if he had chapstick on or something. He didn’t have much time to think on it though, since the tongue that was finding it’s way into his throat was quickly short circuiting his brain.

Peter wished he could take back the embarrassing moan that managed to slip past his lips before he could stop it, but Harry didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, he liked it, if the fingers gripping and pulling on his shirt was any indication.

Peter let his hands roam up Harry’s body until they tangled in his hair, which unsuprisgnly, was just as soft as it looked. In his exploratory haze, he lost his purchase a bit and accidentally pulled on a few of the strands harder than he meant to. He pulled back in a  rush to apologize, but Harry’s breathy moan had him speechless.

“Do that again,” Harry begged, and Peter couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to at that point. He pulled a little sharper this time and was rewarded with a gasp of his name, as well as Harry’s entire body molding against him.

A sharp ringing broke the two apart and Harry cursed louder than anyone should in a public park. It was a little startling to see Harry so angry. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Harry said, his tone just as deflated as Peter felt. 

“It’s ok Har,” Peter soothed but Harry was pulling away, yanking at his hair and shouting.

“No it’s- this always happens! I’m sorry, Pete I’m really sorry. Can we- rain check?” He asked, and his eyes were filled with so much hopeful sadness it made Peter’s heart sink in his chest.

”Yeah Har, of course. Whatever you need.”

Harry’s anger seemed to dissipate a little after that and Peter helped Harry find and gather up all his things. Harry looked at the sidewalk forelornly, turning back towards Peter and yanking him against him for one more heated kiss.

“I’ll text you,” he promised before setting down his board and skating home. 


	8. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuse TW  
> Self harm TW

Harry was a fucking wreck after he left Peter. His mom left a nasty message on his phone, demanding to know where he was and why he wasn’t home. They weren’t even home! Which meant they had spent parts of their so called ‘vacation’ tracking his phone. Didn’t they have anything better to do? God forbid Harry take a fucking walk every once and awhile. He was so furious, he couldn’t even be happy he kissed Peter, or more importantly Peter kissed him back.  _ Him _ . The weird, freaky goth kid that no one would even waste their time spitting on, let alone want to kiss.

The only thing that gave him solace was knowing he was going back to an empty house, he could wallow in self pity there. 

When he turned the corner onto his block he stopped dead, an icy chill of fear running his spine as he spotted the familiar grey minivan in the driveway.

"Oh  _ fuck _ ."

Harry's heart sank. They were home, a full  _ two days  _ early! He debated just running, turning around and booking it as far as his legs would take him. Maybe taking his chances and sleeping in the park tonight. Anything would be safer than walking through the front door.  Flashes of the last time he ran away came to mind and his body ached just thinking about it. The cops in Texas were idiots. He doubted they were much smarter in fucking Queens.

With a final shuddering breath, Harry picked up his board and begrudgingly took the final steps up to his front door. 

He squinted through a small crack in the blinds in the front facing window. There was a light on, but it wasn't a big one, just a side lamp outside the dining room. Did he leave that on before he left? He hoped to God he did. Maybe they were tired from the trip and went to bed early? He doubted he could be that lucky. With a deep breath, he pushed his key through the front door and turned the lock, as silently as he possibly could, hoping, praying they were asleep.

The first step into the dimly lit house was silent, and Harry thought, for just a moment, he was in the clear.

The second step was accompanied by a sharp, painful ringing in his ears that made his head throb, and for almost 10 seconds, he couldn't see anything. His vision had completely blacked out. 

Harry gripped his head and swore, his vision returning slowly in flashing spots paired with stomach rolling nausea. It wasn't until he heard sharp shrill screaming did he realize what just happened. He had been hit across the side of the head. Hard too. Probably with a fist this time, or a really powerful backhand.

"And where the  _ FUCK _ have you been?”

His mother was the one screaming, yanking his arm so hard it nearly came out of its socket as she began her routine pat down, pulling off his jacket and shaking it out.

"Were you out doing drugs again!? I swear to God Harry if I find shit on you-"

Harry heard his pack and lighter clatter on the hardwood and let out a defeated sigh. He knew he should of tossed those in the park. He could always buy more. 

“What the fuck are these Harry! Huh!?” She screamed, getting in his face and pushing the half empty pack into his chest. “I knew I smelled that shit on you!”

"Rachel! Jesus, calm down," his dad scolded, stopping her from hitting Harry a second time.

"Calm down?! Calm DOWN!? I found cigarettes on him Norman! You really think he stopped there? Do I need to remind you about last year!?"

His dad's eyes fixed on him and Harry mentally wilted. He hoped, if anyone, his dad at least believed him. He was done with that shit. It wasn’t worth the round the clock mental and physical abuse that accompanied his 5 day suspension. 

"Well!?" She shrieked, shoving Harry back hard. His back bounced off the front door and his fists balled at his sides in anger. He wanted to hit her back so badly. He wasn't a fucking punching bag.

"Well what?" Harry spat back, his body tingling with fight induced adrenaline.

"You going to tell me where the fuck you were when you were supposed to be home!?

"I don't have to tell you shit," Harry barked back and was met with another hard smack for his troubles. This one was across his face and her long nails broke the thin skin across his cheek.

"RACHEL!" Norman shouted, but was ultimately ignored.

"Upstairs! Now! You are  _ never _ leaving this house again do you hear me!? I will barricade you in your room if I have to!"

Harry shoved past both his parents and rushed up the stairs, tears falling from his eyes as the shock began to fade. When he reached his room, he forced the door open, slamming it back hard enough to rattle the frame. Big mistake. 

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE SLAMMING DOORS!?" His dad bellowed from downstairs and Harry panicked as loud, angry footsteps came barreling up the stairs two at a time. 

Harry lunged for the ground, pushing his back against his door and pinning one leg against the wall and another against his bed frame, effectively barricading himself in. Without locks, this was the only way he could keep himself safe from the anger on the other side. 

When Norman reached his bedroom he was screaming, kicking the door so hard Harry's back launched forward before smacking back against it. It knocked the wind out of him for a second, but he held his position firm. He needed to keep them out. 

"YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Norman threatened, kicking until the door cracked. Harry used the last of his remaining strength holding the door closed.

Eventually, close to half an hour later the banging and the screaming stopped. They had gone to sleep, or at least lost interest in Harry for the time being. There was no telling what tomorrow would be like but right now Harry didn’t have the energy to care.

***

The next morning wasn't any better than the night before. He had been woken up in the middle of the night by a panic attack that had him damaging his body worse than his mom had. His hips as well as his forearms were trashed and there wasn't enough makeup in the world to cover the bruises on his face. He was at least able to hide the bags under his eyes with liner and cover his forearms with a long hoodie. 

He was barely able to made it out of the house before his mom could hit him again. At least there was one saving grace with Rachel, she'd never hit him in public. Striking Harry would ruin her fake, stepford, mom-of-the-year reputation she worked so hard to manipulate people into believing. 

Using his hood and hair to hide the dark purple shadow on his face, Harry blocked out as much of last night as he could with his music, turned to a deafening decibel as he walked to school.

The first few classes went by in a blur, mostly because he was trapped too deep in the recesses of his mind to really notice what was going on around him. He hadn’t even noticed if Peter made it to school today or not.  Autopilot was his usual defense mechanism, and despite his efforts to fight it, some days the overwhelming numbness beat out the constant mental and physical agony. 

He was so focused on keeping his head down and getting to class on time he wasn't really watching where he was going. He turned a corner too quickly and slammed right into Flash, the asshole that decided to dunk his face in mud his first day.

"Hey! Watch where you're going freak!" Flash roared in anger, shoving Harry back hard enough for him to lose his footing and fall on his ass. A bout of laughter erupted around him, and the embarrassment he felt was so strong he nearly started crying. He really didn't need this right now. Not today.

"Aww, is the little bitch gonna cry?" Flash laughed, getting up in his face close enough to see the tears brimming on his lids. It only made him laugh harder as he shouted to the crowd that had begun to gather around them. "Guess that's a yes!"

"YO FLASH!" A sharp and venomous voice shot from behind the pair, and Harry's embarrassment doubled when he realized it was Peter's. Great. Now the guy he was crushing on got to see the broken and pathetic state Harry was in.

Flash rolled his eyes and shoved Peter back too. "Chill the fuck out Pete, we were just messing around-"

But Peter wasn't listening. The look in his eyes was down right murderous and Harry watched in shock as Peter reared back and punched his teammate hard in the jaw, splitting his lip wide open.

"WHAT THE FUCK PARKER!?" Flash bellowed, lunging towards his former best friend as the other jocks on the basketball team his held him back.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from Harry!" Peter threatened, looking like he was gearing up for another punch.

"What the fuck do you even care? He's just some loser!" Flash spat, and Harry wilted even further against the cold tiles. 

"No, he's not! He's my friend, and if you try that shit again and I'll make sure your ass is kicked off the team. Your game is for shit anyway. I'm sure coach wouldn't even argue if I told him to drop your ass."

Flash's hateful sneer turned to one of bewildered defeat. He shrug the people holding him back off hard, adjusting his shirt before sending Harry one more threatening glare. 

"Whatever man. Just make sure that freak faggot stays out of my way. You might not always be here to protect him."

Flash and his goons began to stalk off, and now that the fight was over the crowd began to dissipate. Harry felt humiliated. All he wanted to do was run and cry. He didn't even want to see Peter right now. But after he fought his best friend for him, he felt obligated.

"You alright Har?" Peter asked, now face to face with Harry and  _ when the hell did that happen? _

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. No. He really wasn’t. But he didn't trust his voice enough to speak.

"Wanna get out of here?" Peter offered, and Harry looked up at him and nodded. 

"Alright, come with me."

Peter helped pull Harry off the floor and lead him to the parking lot. He kept a firm hand around his waist while they walked but still gave him enough space to breathe. He really wished he had his cigarettes right about now. 

Peter directed Harry under the bleachers and hugged him with almost desperation, startling Harry with the urgency. "Har I’m so sorry about Flash. Are you alright?"

Harry stayed quiet. He wasn't. Farthest from actually. He flinched when Peter touched his face and instantly felt guilty. Peter wouldn't hit him, he knew that. When Peter tried the second time, he went slower this time and it helped ease Harry into the touch. When he ran his fingers through Harry's hair it pushed back the hood and exposed the bruising. Harry felt his face flush when Peter gasped.   

"Har! Did- did Flash do this? I'll swear I'll get him expelled. 

Harry shook his head and fell against Peter's chest, tears making it hard to speak. Finally when he felt like he could talk without his voice breaking he answered. 

"It-it wasn't Flash,” he sniffled and Harry could see Peter putting two and two together. 

"Harry, what happened?"

Harry desperately wanted to tell Peter about his home life, he needed to tell  _ someone _ . But he didn’t want to burden Peter with his shit, and what if Peter didn’t believe him? His mom’s chilling laugh echoed in the back of his mind, parroting back his fears.  _ Who’s going to believe your word over mine Harry?  _

That’s all it took for him to start bawling again. 

Peter held him until his sobs turned to sniffles and Harry blurred out the truth before he could think better of it. 

"It- it was my mom."

Peter was pulling back so he could look at Harry but Harry couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Your- Har! What the hell happened! Was she drunk or something?"

That had Harry laughing bitterly.  _ If only _ . "No, they got home earlier than they said they were going to. Kinda flipped because I wasn't home when they were."

"They hit you for that?” Peter asked and Harry began to panic. Oh no, he didn’t believe him. Harry’s chest tightened and he felt the beginnings of an anxiety attack starting. 

Peter pulled Harry against his chest tightly and sniffled in his ear. Wait why was Peter crying? 

“No one deserves to be hit Har. Ever. Why don't you come stay with me for a while?” Peter tried, “I can ask May and Ben, I'm sure it would be ok."

Harry's heart ached, god that sounded like heaven, but if he ran away again… His house was already a prison, but it would be even worse if they found out about Peter. He didn't want to lose him.

"I can't Pete. I want to, believe me. But if I leave again-"

Harry trailed off, not wanting to think about the last time. He hoped Peter didn't notice his mood change, but luck didn't seem to be on his side today.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Harry bit his lip so hard it split. Of course there was more.

"Harry... you can tell me. We're friends aren't we?"

"Is that all we are?" Harry sniffled, curling in on himself.

Harry heard Peter sigh and felt his stomach drop. Here it comes.

"It doesn’t have to be. I had a really good time with you yesterday. I'd like to go out with you Harry, but only if that's what you want too. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Especially if you’re not- you know.” 

Harry blinked a few times, head raising from beneath his arms before turning to Peter, wide eyed.

“Peter, you’ve seen me, of course I’m fucking queer,” he laughed, watching as relief spread across Peter’s face.

“I don’t really know what I am, but I know I like you. A lot. So yeah I’d like to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me that is.”

Harry didn't think words would really describe what he was feeling right now so instead he crushed their lips together, hoping Peter understood.

"I guess that's a yes?" Peter asked and Harry sputtered a laugh and held Peter close, nodding quickly before rejoining their lips. It was in that moment Harry realized, if their relationship contained more moments like this, the horrors of home might just be manageable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **updated and rewritten 5/22/18
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long. It was a chapter I wanted to get right and not rush through. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it'll have to do. Hope y'all enjoyed. Planning on adding more in the next few weeks


	9. Damaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Chapters 1-8 have been reworded/written so if you’ve read before 5/24/18 the story may be a little different!****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back on their bullshit! You guessed it! At least it’s to your benefit right, you get a new chapter, I get free therapy, it works for everyone!
> 
> I’ve also decided to lengthen the story just a bit. 9 chapters seemed too short for me. 
> 
> Speaking of short, this chapter is short af. But it felt weird combining it with the next part since ch 10 is mostly Peter’s POV. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with me through this and for all the nice comments you guys leave. Really helps motivate me to write more. 
> 
> Love y’all, enjoy.

The rest of the day went marginally better after talking to Peter. The older man just had a way of making everything better. He had even forgotten about the shit that happened with Flash. The concept of having a boyfriend, hell having a  _ friend _ outweighed the bullshit of the day. They sat together and laughed at lunch, kissed behind the lockers after gym, and even got paired up for a group project in bio. It was so good Harry hadn’t even noticed how fast the day way going and much too soon the final school bell was ringing and dread hit his gut like expertly lobbed softball. Harry had to go home. 

Peter had noticed his mood shift but seemed to be trying everything to lighten the mood. He appreciated it, that someone cared enough to try, but at this point it was getting annoying. Everything good that happened today would not be enough to get him through tonight. That much was certain. 

The two walked hand in hand until they reached the edge of Harry’s street and the dread was getting to the point of suffocating. I’m a desperate attempt to protect his psyche, he stopped the two of them before they reached the beginning of the driveway. 

“You probably shouldn’t walk me to the door,” he said in sad warning, though he desperately wanted the opposite. 

“Your parents not cool with the whole boyfriend thing?” Peter asked and Harry’s face fell even more. They weren’t really cool with anything. Harry didn’t want Peter to meet them. They were toxic and manipulative. 

“S-Something like that yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Peter soothed, rubbing Harry’s arm before squeezing his hand gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

Harry could feel the tears creeping to the surface of his lids without his permission. God he hated his parents. They already took so much from him and now he couldn’t even have a normal relationship without them fucking it up. 

“I’ll text you?” He tried weakly and Peter nodded,  smiling over his shoulder. 

“Look forward to it Har!” 

* * *

As he turned towards the looming, vacant house he felt a knot form in his gut. The familiar van and station wagon were gone so his parents weren’t home just yet, but it didn’t make walking into the house any easier. He just wanted it to be tomorrow already. At least at school he had Peter. With one more heavy sigh he pushed in his key to unlock the door.

The kitchen was the first stop once inside. He at least had enough time to grab a snack and water before hiding out in his room all night. They’d be pissed he was in there, but if he barricaded himself in just right they wouldn’t be able to get in. Sure there would be yelling, and integrity damage to his door, but eventually they would give up and Harry could at least sleep until tomorrow. Snack and backpack in hand, Harry dragged himself up the large flight of stairs intent on listening to the new Papa Roach CD he just bought. 

Harry had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he hadn’t noticed anything off about his bedroom until he shut the door and was met with an unusual amount of beige. Shock and agony hit him like a swift kick to the ribs and popped all the air from his lungs like two overfilled balloons. The only other noise that could be heard over the harsh pounding of anxiety fueled blood was the glass of water he’d been holding shattering across bedroom floor. Only one word could pass through the muddied channels of his shell shocked brain,  _ gone _ .    
  
All of it, every painting, drawing, magazine cutout and band poster he owned, gone, stripped completely from his cream colored walls. Every photograph he’d felt compelled enough to keep or trinket he deemed worthwhile, ripped completely from the wall leaving behind nothing but the holes of the tacks used to pin them up. And as if to add insult to the already bad injury, placed precariously on the edge of his mattress was a small folded piece of paper labeled  _ Harry _ . His hands shook as he reached for it, and rage and blind fury flared in his gut as he looked over the familiar scrawl.    
  


_ I just spent three hours cleaning up your trashy room. I can’t believe you think living like a complete slob is acceptable. I better not see anything other than bare walls from this point forward or you’re grounded until graduation.  _ __  
__  
_ You’re welcome for cleaning your room by the way. I expect a thank you when I get home.  _ __  
_  
_ __ Mom

  
Harry could feel the beginnings of a full blown panic attack barreling down on him as his eyes scanned back over the empty and bare walls. Harry’s bedroom had once been his sanctuary. The one place that actually felt like home in this fucking prison. And when Rachel took down his belongs, it was as if every bit of Harry’s personality was stripped and scrubbed away leaving him feeling as lifeless and empty as the walls.

After destroying the note in a fit of unbridled rage, Harry flew down the stairs two at a time, as if somehow getting to the trash can faster would save his belongings. His hands continued to shake as he pulled back the pale yellow lid of their trash bin to inspect the damage. His heart caught in his throat when he saw the carnage. Not only were his things thrown in the same bin as rotting food, they were crumpled, torn, and shredded, completely destroyed beyond repair. No amount of tape or glue would ever make them the same again, and Harry could barely stand the thought.     
  
The pain had been almost unbearable, and the itch to take his agony out on his body was strong. But the desire to flee was stronger, and the sole motivating force pushing him back up the stairs. He yanked out an old duffel bag from the back of his closet and filled it with as many of his belongings that he could fit. Rachel would without a doubt destroy whatever he left behind so he crammed until the bag was nearly bursting at the seams.. 

With his bag as full as it could carry Harry made for the front door, tossing his cell phone on the kitchen counter before never looking back.


	10. The Parkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> -Blood  
> -Self harm  
> -Cutting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angsty but it ended cute. Who doesn't love Parksborn kisses?

When Peter came home, he was filled with mixed feelings. He was over the moon thinking about his new relationship with Harry, but the few things the other man had admitted about his home life set Peter on edge. Peter’s home life wasn’t glamorous by any means, his parents ditched him when he was a kid and died before he ever really got a chance to reconnect with them, but he still had May and Ben. May and Ben were dirt poor taking care of a kid they didn’t plan on, but there was never any doubt they loved him. And while there were definitely shouting matches between the three when times got heated, Ben and May never laid a hand on Peter. He had it great compared to Harry. He decided he’d talk to May tonight about Harry staying there, at least for a little while. 

“Peter? Is that you?” May called from the kitchen. 

When he crossed the threshold, he hung up his bag and attempted to school his thoughts away for later. May could always read him like a book. 

“Yeah May, sorry I’m a little late.” 

“It’s fine sweetheart, come help me with dinner and you can tell me about your day.” 

_ Yeah _ . Peter sighed, _ I’m really fucking lucky.  _

* * *

Peter was chopping up a head of lettuce, enjoying peaceful conversation with May when they were interrupted by a frantic knock at the door. 

“Now who could that be?” She asked, starting to rinse the raw hamburger off her hands in an effort to answer the door. 

“I don't know, I’ll get it though May, I’ll be right back.” 

“Thank you sweetheart,” she smiled and Peter returned it, the knocking growing quicker. 

“Coming!” Peter shouted at the eager patron, yanking the door open quickly. It was Harry, looking more distraught than ever, a duffel bag over his shoulder. 

“Harry! What are you-“

“Were you serious about me staying here?” Harry interrupted, catching Peter off guard with the urgency and harshness of his tone. 

"Uh-"

“Yes or no Pete. If not, I need to get moving.” 

“Harry I don’t und-" but then realization struck Peter and a frown settled on his face. “You’re running away.” It wasn’t a question. “Harry, what did she do?”

“Enough.” Harry sighed, pushing back his long, overgrown bangs. “I need an answer Peter. S-She’ll be home soon.” 

The urgency of Harry's tone set Peter on edge and without thinking, ushered him inside. Hopefully May didn’t mind. 

“Peter?” May called from the kitchen, “who’s at the door?” Peter grimaced. 

“Uh just Harry, May. I Invited him over for a sleepover. Sorry, I forgot to mention it.” 

Harry shot him an amused look that probably said something along the lines of  _ aren’t you a little old for sleepovers?  _

Peter chuckled, “Hey it was all I could think of give me a break. Bathroom's right over there if you want a moment. May’s gonna want to meet you so heads up. She’s a hugger.” 

Harry gave him a weak but grateful smile before heading the direction of the bathroom.

 

When Peter came back into the kitchen May was grinning at him knowingly. It made a blush spread high on his cheeks so he went back to preparing salad to avoid her gaze. 

“Is this the same Harry from your art class?” May asked casually and Peter stopped cutting the tomatoes. 

“Maybe,” he said and she smiled, bumping his shoulder with hers. 

“It’s about time you brought him home.”

* * *

Harry took his time in the bathroom, gathering his wits before he had to go out and play ‘normal’ with Peter's family. To be honest, he felt like he was breaking, his insides barely held together by bubble gum and old band-aids. Agony was about to burst at the seams as he desperately tried to hold himself together. His hands hadn’t stopped trembling since he left the house and his chest still hadn’t receded since the panic attack. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t breathe regularly, he was a huge frayed, bundle of nerves just waiting for the right push to send him hurtling over the edge in a sea of anguish. He knew what he needed to relax, and boy he needed it  _ bad _ . 

He tore through the contents of the small travel bag he brought to Peter's for a pocket knife he had found laying around a year ago. It wasn’t his initial blade of choice, the overuse on boxes and paper had dulled it significantly, but it would do the job. Especially since _his_ blade was still at home. He gave the knife a quick rinse in the sink and a dry across his jeans before he yanked up the long sleeve of his left arm. He took a moment to look over the scars from the other day, each in various stages of healing. He found an unmarked patch of skin just below where his arm creased and lined up the blade, yanking towards himself hard and fast. The dullness of the blade added a painful drag to the experience and Harry was biting his lip to keep from shouting. Small droplets of blood began to bead up on his arm and he positioned it over the sink before he could make a bigger mess. The calming numbness he’d grown accustomed to had begun to take over, relaxing his chest and slowing his heart rate. He let the new wound bleed for a little longer before rinsing it until the water ran clear, half-assedly wrapping it in toilet paper and pulling back down his sleeve. Hopefully it would be enough for now. 

He worked on scrubbing his face clean next. He had a feeling Peter’s family wouldn’t be a fan of all the black makeup on his eyes. Besides, he desperately needed their acceptance to make staying here to work, so if that meant no make up, he’d happily go without. He also took out the multiple studs, rings, and bars out of his face, pushing them all into his pocket to replace when Peter and he had some privacy. He couldn’t really do much about his clothes, he didn’t own anything that wasn’t black these days, but at least without the makeup and piercings he looked somewhat respectable. With one large albeit shaky breath, he left the bathroom to meet Peter’s aunt.

 

When he reached the threshold of the kitchen, Peter and his aunt were preparing dinner and whispering to each other. Harry wasn’t an idiot, he knew it was about him; otherwise why would they be whispering in their own home? He cleared his throat quietly to announce his presence and gave his best attempt at a friendly smile when the two Parker's turned around. 

“And you must be Harry,” the kind looking, older woman said, crossing the kitchen to shake his hand. 

“Yes ma’am. It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Parker,” Harry said politely, grinning internally when she blushed. 

“Such nice manners! You could learn a thing or two from this young man Peter,” she teased and Peter rolled his eyes before chuckling. “And sweetheart you can call me May. Makes me feel less old.” She winked before leaning in to hug him. Peter mouthed a ‘told you’ from across the room and Harry couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh sweetheart, what happened to your face?” She asked with genuine concern and Harry mentally cursed. Maybe he should have left the makeup on after all. 

“Oh I uh, fell off my skateboard,” he lied quickly, hoping the bruise at least sort of mimicked the kind of injury you’d get from road rash. 

“I always say those things are dangerous, don’t I Peter? You see? I’m not just some crazy safety nut.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Peter teased and May sent him a glare, smacking his shoulder playfully. 

“Would you like some ice for your face Harry?” She asked kindly. 

“I’m okay May, but thank you,” Harry declined kindly. May was sweet, but her overwhelming amount of motherly care was actually making Harry uncomfortable. He didn’t really know how to react to anything so genuine. 

“Well, dinner should be ready in about 30 minutes. I just have to wait for the burgers to cook. Why don’t you boys hang out and I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“Are you sure May? We can help-" Peter offered but she waved him off. 

“It’s just the toppings left. I can do it while the meat cooks. Go hang out with your friend sweetie.” She said and Harry was grateful for the chance to leave. The endorphins from the cut on his arm were no match for May’s overenthusiastic, genuine nature and made him feel like he was on the verge of another breakdown. 

“We’ll just be upstairs,” Peter said on his way out the kitchen, grabbing Harry’s bag from the hallway before leading them both to the stairs. 

* * *

When they were behind closed doors in the privacy of Peter's room, Harry shuddered with grief, letting the emotions of the last 24 hours finally show through. He sunk to the floor and curled in on himself, embarrassed at how weak he suddenly felt. Warm, gentle arms wrapped around him suddenly and Harry looked up from his arms to see Peter. 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, scrubbing his tears from his face in an attempt to get ahold of himself. 

“It’s alright,” Peter soothed, hugging Harry tight before leaning down to kiss his forehead. Harry didn’t admit out loud how good such a small action made him feel. 

“Did you want to talk about it?” Peter asked after a beat and Harry shook his head. 

“Maybe tonight. I-I can’t right now. Not if I have to see your aunt again. She’ll ask if I’m alright and I’ll lose it. God she’s so fucking nice Peter.” 

“She likes you already. I can tell. You didn’t have to take out your piercings you know. Or take off your makeup. She already knows what you look like, it doesn’t bother her.” 

“She does?” Harry asked and Peter looked like he was hiding a blush. 

“I uh, showed her the pictures. From the park? I was really proud of them. She says she thinks you’re handsome.” 

Harry scoffed, “I look like a fucking freak. She’s just being nice.” 

“No she’s not Har,” Peter reassured, pulling Harry back so he could cup his face. “I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror, but I honestly think you’re beautiful.”

Harry’s cheeks blushed pink and he tried to hide behind his hair but Peter wasn’t letting him. Peter pressed their foreheads together in a gentle embrace, holding Harry tight with no intention of letting go, and for the first time all evening, Harry felt at peace. 

* * *

Dinner was actually easier than expected. May was still overwhelming him with motherly concern, making sure he ate enough and offering once again to get him something for his face but Ben intercepted, telling May kindly to stop babying him, he was a grown man. Harry sent Ben a grateful smile across the table which Ben returned with a wink. 

After dinner Harry started on the dishes, surprised when May told him he didn’t have to. It was a requirement in his house. You made a mess, you cleaned it up, no if ands or buts, but May insisted he was the guest and that he and Peter should spent their time hanging out, not doing chores. It filled him with more unease than it should but he thanked her anyway, following Peter back up the stairs to the privacy of his room.  

When the door closed behind him, Harry let out the breath he had been holding. 

"Well that went better than-"

“Hey um, I’m sorry for leaving yesterday.” Harry interrupted suddenly, the guilt had been eating at him since yesterday and he hoped Peter was kind enough to forgive him. 

“I’m guessing that was your mom who called huh?” Peter asked carefully, and Harry appreciated him being delicate with this. Harry nodded. 

“Yeah. I-I ran away last year. I didn’t come home for almost a week. When the cops finally brought me home, she uh, she put a tracker in my phone. Said I caused her all kinds of unnecessary stress, like she actually gave a shit I was gone.” Harry scoffed bitterly. “Anyway, that’s how she knew I wasn’t home. I was supposed to stay home the whole time they were gone. And when she found out I wasn’t, she got pissed. Enough to hit me when I got back.” 

Peter reached forward to take Harry’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly but not responding just yet. He wanted Harry to know he was listening. 

“That’s- a little extreme, isn’t it?” 

Harry just snorted his agreement, “Yeah well, that’s Rachel. She doesn’t need a reason to hit me, but if she feels like she’s justified it ‘doesn’t make her a bad mother.’”

“No Har, that’s fucking bullshit.” Harry was surprised by the sudden anger in Peter's tone, enough that it set his already frayed nerves on edge. “Hitting your kids, ‘justified’ or otherwise  _ does  _ make you a bad mother. You shouldn’t need to use fear as a parenting tactic!”

Peter’s voice was raising and Harry flinched back reflexively, pulling his hand back and shrinking back on himself. His chest was starting to tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to will away the panic. God fucking damn it. _Not now. Not in front of Peter_. He begged, but his body wasn’t listening. 

“Har?” Peter asked, but it sounded muffled, almost like he was speaking underwater. Harry’s hand immediately went to his newest self inflicted wound and scraped at it through his sleeve, needing the pain to ground him and bring him out of the upcoming attack. 

“Harry! Harry what’s wrong!” Peter shouted and it was so fucking loud now, like he was talking through a megaphone. Harry’s hands went over his ears and he dropped to the floor, his knees flew to his chest. 

“Stop, please-” Harry begged, fresh tears spilling over his cheeks and onto the floor. The panic attack was in full bloom now, and Harry felt so small, so weak, for losing it completely in front of Peter. He was mortified, and that only made the attack worse. He couldn’t breathe, his body was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, and he felt like any moment he was going to pass out. But then he was enveloped in warmth, with a solid, calming frame to lean into. Peter was hugging him, silent now and rubbing calming circles on Harry’s back. The tears flowed more freely now. 

It was a solid 20 minutes before Harry felt stable enough to speak again. The attack had gotten under control moments after Peter wrapped himself around him but Harry was so shaken he remained in the embrace for as long as Peter would let him. He  _ hated  _ that Peter had seen him like this. Hated that he was so damaged that Peter raising his voice had sent him spiraling into a full blown anxiety attack. But he was also weirdly grateful. Just being around Peter had lessened the length of the attack significantly. He knew he’d have to explain what happened eventually, but for now he was just content resting in Peter’s arms. 

* * *

Peter felt a tremendous amount of guilt for being the root cause of Harry’s panic attack. He knew the kind of home life Harry had and still he let his temper get the best of him. His guilt was lessened at least by the fact he recognized the signs and stopped before they got worse.

Harry’s breathing had evened out and he seemed almost completely back to normal in Peters arms. If the snuggling into his neck was any indication. It made Peter chuckle and pull back, connecting their lips together gently albeit a little awkwardly because of the angle. 

Harry blinked in surprise. 

"S-Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that since we left the school.”

Harry smiled with a small laugh, leaning forward and kissing Peter back. 

“I hope that’s not how you kiss girls.”

Peter's face blushed crimson. 

“Haven’t kissed a lot of guys huh?” Harry asked lightly, though it was more of a genuine question than a tease. Harry knew how terrifying it was trying to find yourself. He’d never make fun of Peter for it. 

But Peter just laughed, even if it was a little self consciously. “That obvious huh?”

“Only by your over eagerness, not on your skill.” Harry reassured, leaning forward and pressing their lips together again. Taking control of the kiss so Peter would feel less pressured to excel. 

“Is it weird that I miss your lip ring?” Peter asked and Harry’s face split wide. 

“I can always put it back in. All you have to do is ask.”

Peter's grin widened and he nodded, Harry let out a chuckle. 

“You’re such a fucking dork Parker,” Harry teased, digging into his pocket and fishing out the black metal. He looped it through his lip before raising a teasing eyebrow at Peter. “Now, where were we?” 


End file.
